Could you be mine?
by bechloe-x-staubrey
Summary: Multi-chapter Staubrey fic. AU. Hot, smart Stacie is the new Finance Director for a company and meets their consultant, Aubrey.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is OOC a bit but just go with it and see where it goes. Will be NC/17 in the future. **

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**Chapter 1: Spark**

It was a Monday morning. Jessica, the office manager, was clucking around more than usual. Apparently, the IT department forgot to set things up for the new Finance Director and she had to scramble to make it right in less than forty-five minutes.

I was in my second week of a consulting gig with the firm Mitchell and Brown, which was in the midst of building out its Finance and Strategy department. They've gone through some growing pains and the new Finance Director was the first of the new guard. "Mit-B," as it's known on the Street, was a boutique investment bank with a selective roster of blue chip clientele. It recently expanded operations to the UK and was already gaining market share. They brought me in to review and update their revenue sharing model. I'd spent the last week doing research and interviews and was just getting started on framing a new proposal for them.

Jessica was on the phone when I got back from the pantry with my first cup of coffee of the day.

She was glaring at no one in particular, "Tell I.T. to set up the profile on whatever hardware they have, we'll swap them out for newer models later. And where the hell is the nameplate?"

Jessica slammed the phone down, "It's 8:13 and I am already having a hell of a Monday. How's your Monday so far?"

"I've got a presentation to reformat," I ducked as she threw a pad of post-its at me.

"You may say you are all southern charm nice, Aubrey, but you've got a New York edge to you, you know that?"

I feigned offense, "Why Jessica, I was just answering your question honestly!"

Jessica shooed me away with her hands, "Go away. 'Reformatting a presentation' pfffttt! Some of us have real work to do... Ah!" She broke into a huge smile as a messenger dropped off an envelope.

"Here, make yourself useful and slide this onto the wall before the newbie walks into a nameless corner office," Jessica handed me the envelope.

"Yes, ma'am," I took it from her and headed back to my cubicle. I placed my coffee on my desk and ripped open the envelope. Inside was a slim, rectangular nameplate. It was brushed nickel with black lettering: S. CONRAD. I didn't know much about the "newbie," as Jessica said so dismissively, only that he came from some big deal VC firm and was a hard-ass. I had no idea how accurate the information was; my source was Jesse Swanson the Finance VP, and he was at best threatened by Conrad's arrival, and at worst shitting his pants that someone would shove his Ivy League MBA where the sun don't shine.

I walked over to the empty office, slid the nameplate into its bracket and went back to my cube. Annoyingly, Jesse was there, leaning against my desk, chewing on his pen.

"Is he here yet?"

I shook my head, "Nope."

I sat down and unlocked my screen. The clacking of the pen between Jesse's teeth continued.

"What?" I looked at him impatiently.

"Nuthin'. Just wondering if I should get on his calendar for today, you know, to introduce myself, show him the model I built for this year's budget..."

"Jesus, Jesse, shut up about your model already."

Jesse took the pen out of his mouth and pointed it at me, "I built some awesome macros for that thing."

"You're not the only one who can build macros you know? And you're in Finance and Strategy, isn't it sort of a pre-requisite?"

"No one else has an MBA. Everyone else joined as an analyst. My spreadsheet skills are pretty solid compared to the rest of them."

Bet you can't outdo me, I thought to myself. Instead, I sighed, "Jesse, no-one cares. Really. If you wanted to be the Director of Finance, you should have spoken up... and knowing how to build macros in a finance model isn't going to get you there."

Jesse looked stung.

I felt a little bad, "You're three years out of your MBA; even if you were a total whiz at all of this, they wouldn't have tapped you for the job. But you've got good instincts, so don't do stupid stuff and you'll get there."

His features softened a little, "Really? You think so?"

"I've consulted for dozens of Finance teams; I know so," I nodded, "I also know I need to have this presentation ready by eleven, so stop hovering."

Jesse muttered a quiet 'thanks' to me, and shuffled off back to his cube. I turned back to my screen and tried to turn my brain on. The presentation was a beast. It wasn't an easy message to deliver: Mit-B's revenue allocation methods were basically a web of ad hoc policies which worked fine when the firm was smaller with lower revenues. I was essentially going to tell them they needed to smash it into a million pieces and put it all together again. But better.

As I said, it was a beast. Big investment banks, and boutique ones like Mit-B, have all had to tackle this particular slice of performance reporting, with mixed results. The banking business is built on relationships, and every banker wants to claim credit for red-hot deals and get a share of the fees. Building a model that mitigates bad behavior and drives business forward was a thankless task. I had the advantage of being an outsider, so I was uniquely positioned to attempt marrying the client relationship structure and the profit sharing structure without walking into the buzzsaw that was the politics of ego and profit-maximization.

It was 10:57am when I hit 'print' and I ran into the printer room to grab the copies.

"FUCK!" The printer didn't collate the pages. "Goddamit," I muttered, taking the stack of papers with me. Manually collating the deck as I walked was next to impossible, and I backed into the conference room with my arms full of paper.

"Speak of the devil," Beca Mitchell, the co-founder of the firm, said as I turned around.

Beca raised an eyebrow, "Did the printer throw up on you?"

I arched an eyebrow of my own, "Someone took off the default collate function... and walking and collating is not a skill I thought I had to develop."

Beca chuckled, "It better not be - we'd be paying you all wrong otherwise!"

I smiled gamely at her and started putting the decks back in order. I was just about done when the door to the conference room opened again, and a voice behind me said, "Sorry I'm late - the techies needed some extra time getting me set up."

I looked up and I swear to god, some voice in my head said, oh, there she is. As in, forget everything and everyone that came before, this is the one.

She was gorgeous - slender, brown hair, and the longest legs I'd ever seen. It was hard to describe anything other than that, because my brain stopped functioning. I forced myself to shuffle around what remained of the uncollated presentation. My pulse pounded in my temple, and I wondered who the woman was and what just happened to my heart. Helpfully, Beca said, "Everyone, this is Conrad, uh, Stacie Conrad, our new Finance Director."

I think my jaw dislocated itself and landed on the floor. And not for nothing, but this proved once and for all that I should never listen to Jesse Swanson because he had no idea what he was talking about. This wasn't some slick high-finance banker bro. This was a hot high-finance banker chick with a swagger and attitude. Did I mention my brain was melting?

Stacie went around the table, shaking people's hands. I wondered if feeling would return to my limbs before she shook my hand. I knew I was blushing. I could feel my neck blooming with heat. This was completely out of character for me. I'm usually the one making other people nervous.

"Stacie," she said, hand outstretched.

"Aubrey," I responded. I took her hand. Her grip was firm and business-like. But I reacted like she had caressed my palm. Seriously. It felt soft, sensual, and strong, and I fought the urge to hug her. This was very clearly all in my head, because Stacie looked like she was ready to move on to meet the other folks in the room; I wasn't even a blip on her radar, which was also something I wasn't used to. Conversely, my brain or whatever it was between my ears was projecting this weird glow around her entire being. It was like time jumped for a second before falling back into its groove.

"Aubrey, nice to meet you."

I must have said some lame joke that I don't remember because she flashed a smile at me. Maybe I should keep trying to be funny if it gets her to smile at me again.

"Aubrey is the consultant I told you about," Beca chipped in, "She's worked with us before on some projects and hasn't let us down yet! Sorry Aubrey, I forgot to tell you Stacie would be joining today."

"The more the merrier," was the best I could come up with. The more the merrier? What the fuck was wrong me?

The rest of the presentation was a blur. I talked through it somehow, and it must have made sense, because people were nodding and adding comments of their own.

Stacie said very little, but I knew she was listening. When I wasn't talking, I just stared at her. There was one particular moment when my eyes wandered over to her left earlobe, and I found myself wondering what it would feel like between my teeth. So I suppose it wasn't all a blur: I remember very clearly my new Finance Director's delicious looking left ear.

As I went through the rest of the day, I managed, somehow, to not completely lose my shit over the fact I now knew of Stacie's existence. I couldn't begin to fathom how one person could flip me inside out with the mere action of showing up in a room. I wanted to know everything about her. Even more surprisingly, I wanted to tell her everything about me. I felt like one of those cartoon drawings with my eyes bouncing on springs, steam coming out my ears, and a swarm of blue cheeping birds flying in circles around my head.

I was discombobulated for a number of other reasons, the first of which (in no particular order) was - 'was' being the operative word - me being straight. Clearly that now needed adjustment. Second, there's Keith, this guy I'd met recently, who all of a sudden seemed incredibly sweet and nice, but I definitely did not lose my mind over him (nor have I over anyone else) like I did in the conference room when Stacie walked in. Needless to say, I no longer had any interest in pursuing anything with him. Third, and most importantly, I knew nothing about Stacie. Zip. My reaction was so out of left field it was like someone purposely stunned me with an infatuation ray at full force. But it wasn't an infatuation... I knew that without a doubt. I wanted her deeply. As in, wanted her in every way: I wouldn't be able to stop myself if I tried. Is this how people realize they're gay? Am I gay? Maybe I'm just Stacie-gay... is there such a thing? I thought about my past relationships, none of which felt lacking in any way, but-

"So what'd you think of her?"

I yelped in surprise and looked up. Jesse.

"Jesus H Christ on a stick Jesse, you scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry," the pen was back in his mouth rolling between his molars, "So? What'd you think?"

What did I think? Where should I start? She's basically the person I didn't even know I was waiting for?!

I shrugged as carelessly as I could, "Didn't spend that much time with her except in a meeting this morning - have you had your meeting yet?"

"Tomorrow," Jesse mumbled, "And... she's not a dude."

I laughed, "Yeah, that's the truth. You made some erroneous assumptions, Mr. Swanson."

Jesse shrugged, "I didn't get a glimpse when she was in for her interview with Beca... and she has zero presence on social media... not even on the professional networking sites."

"You looked at her resume and assumed she was a guy."

Jesse snorted, "Bet she's a lesbo."

I made a face, "What's that got to do with anything? And why would you assume that?"

"This place is full of them."

"Jesse, if you have a problem with it, go get a job somewhere else." That stopped him cold.

"I was just kidding around," he back-pedaled, "I totally got the vibe that she's a hard-ass though, right?"

"She seems really nice," I shrugged again. Understatement of the century.

"I'm not homophobic, by the way," he tapped his foot nervously.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously! My brother's gay, I don't have a problem with it."

I crossed my arms.

"Okay, fine. I went for the cheap shot."

"And...?"

He looked blankly at me for a beat before light dawned.

"...and I'm sorry I was an ass."

"Okay, apology accepted." I turned back to the computer.

I went back to my existential crisis when Jesse loped away. My only recourse, I concluded, was to talk to someone who could help me figure out what to do.

I took a breath and was about to call my best friend when I heard Jesse striding back. At least he wasn't sneaking up on me again.

I dropped the call, "This better be worth the interruption, jackass, I have things to do..." I said loudly as I threw my phone onto my desk.

"I'll try my best to make it worth your while."

Oh, no no no, that didn't just happen.

I turned towards the voice and indeed, I had just called Stacie a jackass.

Once again, the sight of her arrested my breath and evacuated all air from my lungs. It was a good thing I was sitting down.

I tried to laugh off my gaffe, "I thought you were someone else. Clearly. If I'd known it was you, I would definitely not have called you a jackass."

Stacie smiled, "You don't know me yet, so don't be so sure!"

"I highly doubt you're a jackass, but point taken. What can I do for you?" Very inappropriate images popped up in my head. I felt myself blushing again.

"Your presentation - can you walk me through your attribution calculations? I couldn't follow how you got to the thirty-three percent. I tried, but I couldn't get there."

"I took seven percent off the top first - I think that's the default for all fees..."

"Okay, so you start with nine million six-thirty five... got it. Cool."

I wasn't really sure how she remembered the ten point four-ish million number from the first slide of my deck or how she got to the nine million number as I was talking, so I just nodded.

"You know what this means, right?" Stacie wiggled her eyebrows.

It means you're as fascinated with my mind as you're with my looks and you want to take me out on a date and to hell with everything else?

"Huh?" I shook my head, mostly to shock my brain back from fantasy land.

"You've just engineered a head-fake - it's making the profit allocation bigger by reporting on contribution, but your attribution calculation right-sizes it on the back end."

I grinned. She totally got it. "Yep. People like talking about contribution anyway. So why fight them?"

Stacie nodded appreciatively, "What else are you working on for Beca?"

"This is it, and we're just getting started. We need to get the model built, test it, and then get buy-in from the client-side folks. Beca wants this to go before the Management Committee... and if they approve it, we'll integrate it into the accounting platform. But after that, I'm outta here!"

"A rolling stone gathers no moss, eh?"

I tilted my head, "I think of it more as having 'nowhere to go but everywhere.'" Oh my god, why am I being such a geek with my literary references? To my great surprise, she got the reference. She picked up on it and my heart pinged with joy.

"Okay Ms. Kerouac, why don't you wander over to my office at some point this week and we can hammer out the rest of this before we loop in the client team guys? How about blocking out either the morning or afternoon of Thursday, and you can catch me up on everything?"

My mind went straight to a vision of Stacie pinning me against the wall of her office and kissing me for an entire afternoon until I went cross-eyed. "Jesus," I mutter.

"Timing doesn't work?"

"Uh, no!" I stammer, "I can make it work. I'll make it work."

"Awesome. Thanks Aubrey," Stacie winked.

I grinned. Why was I grinning?

Stacie chuckled, "I'll see you later."

I nodded, "Yeah. Okay. See you later."

The moment she disappeared from view, I picked up my phone. Screw the rest of the day. I need to head home. We're at Defcon 1 ladies and gents.

I texted my best friend Chloe. Bubbly bisexual and my life-long confidante.

{Aubrey} SOS. SOS. Drop whatever/whoever you are doing and meet me at home ASAP.

I stared at my phone, willing it to ring.

When it did, I answered before the first ring finished, "Holy shit, Chloe. Holy shit."

"Is this a real emergency or did you lock yourself out of our apartment again?"

"Chloe, shut up and listen."

I threw everything into my bag, ran into a conference room and shut the door.

"Okay," I took a deep breath, "I think I'm gay."

Silence.

"Chlo? Are you there?"

Silence.

"Chloe?"

"Sorry," I heard Chloe try to suppress a laugh, "I had you on mute."

"Are you fucking around with a someone right now? This is serious!"

"No!" Chloe laughed again, "I thought I heard you say you're gay."

I rolled my eyes and flopped down onto a chair, "You did. Can you please try and be serious for a second?"

"Wait a second," Chloe kept chuckling, "You. You really think you're gay?"

"YES!" I yell.

"Breeeee?" Chloe intoned, "You were straight when you went to work this morning."

"I know. This is why you need to meet me at home right now. I need a crash course on... oh, I don't know... EVERYTHING. Like, I need to know how to find out if someone is gay and if so how I would go about asking her on a date and maybe many dates and definitely lots of other things related to dating..."

"You are asking me how to ask a woman out on a date?" Chloe sounded incredulous.

"Isn't there a universal LGBT 'I think you're hot' bat signal or something?"

More laughter. I groaned, "Can you stop laughing for a minute and let me know if you can meet me at home?"

"Aubrey, it's my day off, remember?"

"So?" I was blanking.

"So, I'm about to walk into class right now, but I'll see you at home as soon as I am done."

Oh. Right. Duh. Chloe was a private chef with a regular roster of clients, and on her days off, she teaches classes at a culinary school.

"Fine," I dropped the call and walked past Beca's office, saying that I had some vague 'thing' to do. She waved me off, and I practically ran to the subway.

I paced around in the apartment like a caged animal, waiting for Chloe to get home.

We've lived together for three years now, each of us pleasantly surprised by how compatible we were domestically. We kind of grew up together: we met at sleep-away camp when we were nine, and - thanks to our parents agreeing to coordinate on how they wanted to get rid of us for eight weeks each year - we got to spend every summer together since. And it was the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

"Here I come to save the day-ay-ay-ay," she sang with gusto as she flung open the front door.

I grabbed her sleeve and pulled her into the living room.

"Here's the deal..." I began as we sat down on the couch.

Chloe's eyes got wider and wider as I talked.

"Say something," I finally pleaded.

"I guess I now know the gestational period for gay-osmosis... Twenty some years of friendship with moi and you are finally exhibiting curiosity about Sapphic love."

I whacked her with a pillow, "Can you please be serious? What happens now?"

Chloe shrugged, "Honestly, nothing. This could be one of those things... I can't believe I am saying this... It could be a flight of fancy. So just see where it goes. You don't have to declare your undying love tomorrow..."

"Even though I want to..."

"Bree, if you got a crazy crush on a guy, you wouldn't make it known immediately, right? You'd scope him out, figure out if there's compatibility..." Chloe got up and grabbed her laptop from her backpack, "How about we do some web-sleuthing?"

I nodded as she fired up her computer. She opened up her web browser and struck out the first couple of tries on popular social media sites. Jesse was right about one thing, Stacie had no social media presence. Chloe tried again, typing 'Stacie Conrad gay?' into the search box. Some results came up, as did some images.

"Woah," Chloe raised her eyebrows.

"What?" I felt apprehensive immediately.

Chloe pursed her lips, "You've got good taste, she's hot. Like, really hot. Oh... uh-oh."

"What?"

Chloe pointed at the thumbnails, "Different date in every shot."

We clicked through the images, and indeed, Stacie had a different woman on her arm in every photo. And the women were all stunning.

"Here's an article about her from a couple years ago," Chloe had clicked onto a story associated with one of the images. I leaned in and took a look.

"She was in a 30 under 30 article? Wow!"

The article was an uber-flattering piece about Stacie's success trajectory. She took two companies from start-ups to lucrative sale targets before she was thirty. I wasn't able to finish the article before Chloe moved on, clicking on another more recent article about Stacie joining a venture capital firm on the west coast.

"Hmmm, that was just last year," Chloe scanned the article, "So why did she leave?"

She adjusted her search terms but nothing came back. "Let's go back to those multiple girlfriends."

We couldn't really find out any additional information, and I really didn't want to see any more beautiful women next to Stacie, so I leaned back and tilted my head and stared at the ceiling as Chloe clicked and typed.

"I never thought it an option to be closeted..."

I sat up. It was Stacie's voice. "What's that?"

Chloe pointed at her screen, "An interview she did with the Pride Legacy Taskforce last year. They did a series of videos of out executives around the country. Most of these photos are from the Taskforce galas and dinners over the years."

We watched the rest of the interview, and my eyes clawed at the screen, desperate to connect to the image of Stacie as she talked. I found every gesture mesmerizing; I loved the way her mouth skewed slightly left as she smiled; I loved the way she talked.

Chloe waved a hand in front of my face, "Are you really into hearing about her being out at work or are you just staring at her?"

I blinked, "Was I staring?"

"Drooling," Chloe shook her head, "I get that she's hot, but why her? You've never been interested in women before."

I held up my hands in surrender. "I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out. It was like a switch was thrown on in my head when I saw her. Is this what love at first sight feels like?"

Chloe clucked her tongue, "Slow down, Bree. This is maybe just a crush. It's intense because it's the first blush of attraction. All physical, based on nothing but first impressions. And you're straight! Maybe you won't feel this way once you've spent some time with her."

I was a little hurt by how easily she was dismissing this.

"If you're not going to help me, fine. But don't tell me what I'm feeling is a phase, okay? I mean, what the fuck, Chloe, isn't that phrase the standing joke about clueless parents?"

Chloe looked stunned, "Oh gosh, Aubrey, I- I didn't mean it like that. I just don't want to see you throw yourself into something completely unknown... I don't want you to get hurt."

"So de-unknown it for me, you idiot! Teach me the ways. I want to learn."

Chloe squinted her eyes at me, "Have you lost your mind?"

I laughed. "I wasn't talking about sex. I was talking about, oh, I don't even know what I am talking about. Like, how do I hit on a woman without, you know, being off-putting?"

"You want to pick up women? What have you done with my best friend?"

"I don't want to pick up women," I ground out, "I want to go out with one particular woman, and I want to get it right. Because..." I pointed to her laptop, "... she is a total enigma right now, both in terms of who she is and why I reacted the way I did. I mean, Chloe, the sight of her stopped everything for me. Have you ever fallen for someone in that way?"

Chloe shook her head, "No, and I certainly haven't fallen for someone who seems determined to go out with a different woman every night."

"Might not be every night," I said defensively.

Chloe shrugged, "Fair, but all indications point to the fact that she's not a one-woman woman. And don't you go breaking your heart over someone who won't ever fall for you like you've fallen for her. It's a one-way trip to madness."

My stomach twisted uncomfortably.

Chloe leaned over and gave me a big hug, "Leave it to you to land neck deep in lesbian drama before you've even kissed a girl!"

I went limp in her arms. She hugged me tighter, "Help me get dinner ready, I'll distract you with my dazzling culinary skills."

I looked up at her, "You're having people over for dinner?"

Chloe sighed, "You said you were going to be drowning in work all week. I made plans. Come!" She gestured towards the kitchen.

Chloe started pulling out ingredients and utensils. I followed, "What are you making?"

"A panoply of Middle Eastern delights. You, my dear, with your limited skills, can start on the salad."

I tried to look annoyed, but I knew she was right. I was a total failure in the kitchen. For whatever reason, any high-functioning multi-tasking ability that I could claim would evaporate the moment I tried to make food.

I picked up a knife and started chopping up the pile of vegetables Chloe placed next to the cutting board. Think, Aubrey, think. Don't just react. Think.

"Help me strategize," I said, mostly to myself; I processed things better when I talked out loud.

Chloe was rattling away on the stove, "Are you sure you can chop and talk at the same time? I don't want to deal with missing fingers or arterial blood spatter..."

I threw a piece of chopped red pepper at her, "You faint at the first sight of blood. You'd be useless. I'd be dead by the time you returned to consciousness."

"Asshole."

"The truth hurts, my friend."

"Yeah, well, so does falling for someone who's one hundred percent not interested."

I pointed a cucumber at her, "Don't make me stick this where the sun don't shine."

Chloe wiggled her eyebrows. I couldn't fight the smile off my face when I realized what I'd just threatened. "Fuck off," I protested, and attacked the cucumber with my knife.

Chloe shuffled over to inspect the carnage, "Ouch," she whimpered. After a beat, she nodded, "That's a pretty good dicing job you did. Carry on, Ms. Calder!"

I rolled my eyes and kept chopping.

"So what's your strategy?" Chloe slid a red onion towards me.

"Okay, here's what we know: I have one specific desired outcome..."

Chloe poured a bunch of lentils into a pot, "And that outcome is?"

"Happily ever after," I said without hesitation. I surprised myself by how clearly I felt that need. It wasn't the typical, knee-jerk boy-meets-girl-white-picket-fence-and-two-and-a-half-kids happily ever after though. It was the for-better-or-worse-richer-or-poorer ever after version.

Chloe's eyebrows shot up.

I ignored it and kept going, "However, there are a great number of unknowns, and deep uncertainty of whether Stacie would or could share the same desire for said outcome."

"I would say it's actually a deep certainty that Stacie wouldn't want said outcome."

That earned her another red pepper in the face.

I sniffed a little as I worked through cutting the red onion. The thin layers of red skin became striations of color as my knife sliced through again and again. That's it!

"I got it," I looked up triumphantly, "I got it. I just treat it like a puzzle that needs to be solved one layer at a time."

Chloe handed me a tissue. I blew my nose and warmed to my theme. "First, I find a way to get as much information as possible. The more she knows about me, and the more I know about her, the easier it'll be to assess and solve for compatibility, commonalities, et cetera."

"You just described what two people with social skills do when they meet each other," Chloe muttered.

I ignored her and went back to the onion, "Second, figure out what the big hurdles are and break them down between temporary obstacles and immovable issues. Third, and most importantly... I need to be clear about my walkaway terms."

"You're forgetting one thing," Chloe washed her hands and wiped them on a towel, "Stacie's a total wildcard. She might not go along with this three-step plan of yours."

I gave her a death stare.

"Actually, I take it all back. You have an amazing plan!" Chloe put on the fakest smile ever, "Now that that's all taken care of, what date should I block out for the wedding?"

I gave her an appreciative chuckle, and said, in a Boston Brahmin accent, "Ah, my darling, I predict Nantucket in the Spring..."

Joking aside, I felt better. I had a plan. Sort of.

Later that night, I laid in bed, my mind still whirring from everything. Chloe's feast was delicious, and I loved spending time with her friends, despite the fact that she casually dropped in a request for the lesbians among our guests to help bring me up to speed on girl-on-girl sex. They demurred, but one of them promised to send me an email with some stuff she said I might find 'useful.'

Honestly, I didn't need any help. My imagination was doing just fine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Simmer**

The x-rated fantasies aside, the next several days added encouraging data points to my plan of action. I wouldn't say I was being super flirty with Stacie (I didn't want to be too obvious), but I was putting my best foot forward. As it turned out, me not having a gay bat signal didn't matter, because it was clear that Stacie and I were definitely going to get along. She was just the right blend of sarcastic and earnest, and we picked up on each other's random quips and obscure references in a way that was deeply satisfying. Not to mention, of course, the fact that she was just delicious to look at. And to my heart's giddy joy, I felt her eyes on me several times, too. Although I might have been reading too much into it.

On Thursday morning, Chloe caught me hyperventilating in our bathroom before work.

"Did you burn a hole in your scalp curling your hair?"

I flipped her the finger, "That was YOU. You burned a hole in my scalp after yammering on about how you'd done it for your sisters a million times..."

She rolled her eyes, "That was, like, ten years ago. Anyway. What's your problem?"

I braced myself against the sink and dropped my head, "I have a three hour one-on-one with Stacie this morning. Starts at nine. I'm freaking out... and I look like a mess..."

Chloe took a discerning glance at my appearance and gave me a thumbs-up, "Nah, you look fine. Exactly the right mix of alluring and professional. Not too different from how you usually dress, but different enough to highlight your assets..."

I blushed a little as I fiddled with the collar of my shirt, "I was debating whether I'd left too many buttons undone..."

Chloe waved away my concern, "It'd look too obvious if you undid more, but this is good. And your legs are killing it in those pants. Go turn some heads."

"Singular. I just need to turn one head."

Chloe rolled her eyes again and shooed me out of the apartment. My commute to work zipped by in a flash and before I knew it, I was knocking on the door to Stacie's office. I knew she was in there; the office was essentially a glass cube.

She waved me in, "Morning!"

I didn't think it possible, but she looked even better today than she did yesterday. Her smile almost undid me.

She frowned when she saw the massive pile of documents I'd carried in. Her eyes rested on my cleavage for a fraction of a second longer than they should have. I leaned forward a fraction of a second longer than I needed to as I laid the documents on her desk. I winked at her, "You said you wanted to get caught up. I thought I'd share the pain!"

She held my gaze and I promise you I could almost feel my clothes falling off me. At that moment, I heard myself thinking, screw the walk-away terms. If this is how she's going to look at me...

Stacie grinned, "And there I was, thinking that I was just going to cruise through..."

I gave a chuckle, "I doubt you've ever allowed yourself to cruise through anything."

Stacie seemed to appreciate that, "Okay, fine. So how much pain are you going to put me through? I am fully in your hands... be gentle."

I ignored the innuendo, "Depends. How finely tuned do you need your bullshit sensor to be?"

She dropped the playfulness immediately, "Bring it. I want it all."

"I thought so," I nodded my approval and grabbed an old presentation from the middle of the pile, "Let's start here."

For the next two hundred glorious minutes, I navigated Stacie through my research of the firm's history of revenue sharing. She was sharp, no doubt about it. But what I appreciated more was the fact that we were entirely in synch; we were doing an intimate dance through intricate facts and figures and she never missed a step. We'd only known each other for four days, but my shorthand was her shorthand. It felt miraculous.

It was a little after 12:30 when Stacie leaned back and rubbed her eyes, "I need a break."

"I think we've covered everything I wanted to," I threw my pen onto her desk, "Good job keeping up!"

Oh, she liked that.

Her wonderful smile returned, "You did the lion's share of work here. I just came along for the ride."

She looked at her watch, "How about lunch? My treat."

Oh, yes, please!

I tapped my finger on my chin and pretended to think about it, although my grin clearly indicated my enthusiasm. Stacie tilted her head as she waited for my answer.

"Okay," I said, "But if you're going to treat me, I'm going to treat you, too."

"Not sure how that's going to work," Stacie's head shifted inquisitively, "But you've got a deal."

Turned out it worked perfectly. We strolled down to the Food Court on the ground floor of our building and, agreeably, we both indicated the same preference for the taco bar. We scanned the menu and ordered the same thing. We paid for the orders, and then exchanged take out bags.

"My treat," I said, as I handed mine to her.

She laughed and handed me hers, "And here's my treat."

I was blissfully and totally content in that moment. We walked back up to Mit-B and returned to her office.

I moved my notes out of the way, but I pointed to them as she sat down, "Do you want me to turn your changes in the model for tomorrow? I think I can get it done."

Stacie unwrapped her lunch, "Nope, take your time. I'm headed to DC tomorrow - Beca's LGBT non-profit is doing its annual gala... I'm doing a panel thing for her. We can pick this back up on Monday."

"Oh - the PLT - what a great organization!" I smiled, "It's so good that kids can have role models like you... that visibility is important." I remembered how hard it was when Chloe struggled with her coming out, and we were already in a better place than even ten years earlier.

Stacie's head snapped up, "You know the PLT?"

Mostly because of that video they shot of you.

"My best friend's bi; the last guy I dated was bi. I've been to a lot of Pride events," I explained, and - maybe it was wishful thinking - I saw Stacie's eyes register disappointment. My heart skipped a beat. I continued, "Didn't go down well with his gay friends when we started dating. They thought he was being a traitor to the cause."

Stacie cocked her head thoughtfully as she finished chewing, "Seems so hypocritical."

I think I could watch Stacie chew on food for days and not get bored. Her jawline was a fucking orgasm in the making.

I nodded, "Andy said it was less about 'love is love' and more about having one fewer ally in the ranks or something like that."

"Did he rejoin ranks?" Stacie's curiosity was beyond cute.

I shrugged, "Don't know. He moved to Salt Lake. We broke up on good terms, but there wasn't much incentive for us to keep in touch. C'est la vie."

Stacie wiped her mouth, "That's why I don't do relationships."

Oh.

My eyebrows scrunched up, "What do you mean you don't do relationships?"

"Because they end. Well, first, they get complicated... then they end. I'm no good at them, and they're no good for me. So, I generally just date and have fun... but I never expect anything to work out."

"That seems incredibly fatalistic... "

Stacie rubbed the back of her neck, "I think of it as being realistic. Romance is some lofty ideal that belongs in the pages of a novel. In reality, relationships lose their shine once the romance wears off."

"Not all of them."

Stacie looked at me carefully for a second. It looked like a sentence was fighting to get out.

I squinted at her, "You disagree, obviously..."

"I do. In my experience, chasing after the notion that love conquers all can be futile."

What kind of eff-ed up relationships have you been in? I let out a slow breath, "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here...?"

"Nothing that dramatic," Stacie's tone was gentle, but I heard the edge behind her next sentence, "I have fun and I move on. Simple."

There were about a thousand raunchy and suggestive things I could have replied with, none of which was appropriate for a work conversation.

I decided to lob out my first test probe, "You gotta go with what works, I guess..." I paused as I dug for a chip, "Maybe I've been lucky with relationships, but I have faith in romance and I buy into the idea of a soulmate. You know, a person who just gets you and wants you... in the same way that you get them and want them."

Stacie crumpled up her paper wrapper and side-armed it at the trash can across the room. It hit the wall and went in. Of course it did.

"How did we get on to this topic?" She asked - a little grumpily.

"You told me you were going to DC." I replied. I crumpled up my taco wrapper and lobbed it towards the trash can. She shoots, she scores!

Stacie's beautiful left eyebrow went up, "I bet you can't make that shot again with the paper bag."

"Challenge accepted; what do I get for making the shot?"

"Lunch on Monday. On me. For real this time." Stacie crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair.

I mashed the bag into a ball, "Burning a hole in your wallet... as we speak..." I turned and made my shot. It hit the rim of the trash can and fell in.

"Baller."

"Free lunch. It's a good incentive." I pointed at her paper bag, "Now you. I buy you lunch Tuesday if that goes in."

Twenty minutes later, we were still launching random shit into the overflowing corner trash can and cracking ourselves up. I was ahead by a couple of shots when Stacie stood up to attempt a shot with a lucite deal-toy. Just at that moment, Beca walked past outside. She did a double-take and came into the office, "Having fun, ladies?"

The look on her face was one of cautious amusement.

Stacie tossed the lucite cube between her hands, "Aubrey doesn't think I can sink this without hitting the wall or the rim first."

"What's on the line?" Beca leaned against the door frame. She looked between me and Stacie with interest.

"World peace," I snarked.

Stacie guffawed, "Hardly. But it's probably me buying her lunch, uh... what is it now? Twice?"

"Three times; remember you missed with the stapler," I loved that I made her laugh.

Beca shook her head and pointed at the glass wall behind the trash can, and then at the lucite in RJ's hand, "You break it, you're buying me a new wall, Conrad."

Stacie hesitated for a second, and to my surprise, she put the lucite down. I was about to tease her for wimping out when she picked it back up and threw it.

The three of us followed the arc of the deal-toy as it sailed across the room, hit the wall with a BONG!, causing it to wobble dangerously, before settling with a thump in the trash can.

"Show off," Beca tsked. She looked at me, "Aubrey, once you're done helping Stacie destroy her brand new office, can you swing by? I want to talk about some other stuff I'd like you to work on."

I nodded. Beca smiled and turned to leave. She stopped herself mid-step and gestured towards the trash can, "Nice shot."

"Didn't count," I reminded Stacie after Beca left, "Challenge was to make a clean swish."

"Worth it though - now we know the wall is pretty strong."

A replay of my fantasy flashed in my brain, you know, the one of Stacie pushing me up against the wall and kissing me senseless. I had to close my eyes for half a second to absorb the force of the vision. I may or may not have moaned. Stacie didn't seem to have noticed, because she changed the subject with her next question, "How long are you here for?"

"Huh?"

"Beca said she wanted to talk to you about stuff to work on - how long are you here for?"

"Oh," I shrugged, "Standard ten to fifteen weeks."

"Seems so short!"

I raised hands, "I'm very, very good at scoping out parameters for a project. I've never missed a deadline."

"So you have something lined up after this?"

"There's a repeat client who always wants me to help out around October when their fiscal year closes, but I was thinking of taking a long summer break. So not really sure."

Stacie's eyes flashed, "So how are you and I different? You go from gig to gig - you obviously have it in you to be a total rock star in a place like this, but you choose to flit around, dipping your toe into projects and ducking back out... same difference!"

Test probe initial result: SUCCESS. Something about that commitment conversation got its hook into her.

"Good try, Ms. Finance whiz, but no dice: this is WORK. We were talking about life... and love. It's totally different."

Stacie waved a hand dismissively, "It's about commitment. Same thing."

"Not really. But if you want to argue over this, I'll tell you why it's different. First, again, it's work. Second, this is what I want to be doing right now - I'm getting to see a broad spectrum of stuff and it's really challenging and interesting. Third, and here's the biggest difference, if I find a job that I think I'm going to really love, I would have no problem jumping in with both feet."

"Hey, I'm seeing a broad spectrum of people, and it's challenging too, so there."

"Yeah, but Stacie, if the right person came along, it sounds like you don't even want to contemplate the possibility of it working out."

"Because it won't."

I launched another test probe, "I'm sorry you think that. I really hope you change your mind one day."

Stacie's expression was hard to read. I took it as a win.

I picked up my stack of papers and my notebook, "I'm going to see what Beca wants. If I don't see you later, have fun in DC."

"Thanks for lunch," Stacie said, the smile was back.

"I'm going to get a good return for it - I think you owe me four more lunches than I owe you."

"Three."

I shook my head, "You missed with the stapler, the highlighter, the headset, the binder clip, the ruler, and the lucite. I missed two - the mouse and the sharpie."

"Lucite went in!" Stacie protested as I walked out.

"Didn't count," I said over my shoulder, "Bye Stace..."

I willed myself not to look back. I hoped she would insist on getting the last word... and she did. Just as I was about to turn the corner towards Beca's office, I heard her say, "Hey, Bree!"

My stomach fluttered at the abbreviated version of my name. I raised my eyebrows as I turned, "Ye-e-e-s?"

"I want a rematch," Stacie's eyes twinkled.

"Fine, but it'll have to be higher stakes than lunch."

"Like what?"

I shrugged, "I'm sure you'll think of something."

I flashed her a smile and continued walking. I still had the smile plastered on my face when I knocked on Beca's door.

"What are you smiling about?" Beca sorted through some presentations on her desk.

I dropped my pile of documents onto the floor next to my chair, "Oh, Stacie's being a sore loser. She wants a rematch."

Beca laughed. She didn't say anything for a couple seconds, and then she propped her chin on her fist, "If I made you an offer to be a Managing Director on the Finance team, would you take it?"

Now that I was not expecting. "Uh," I felt myself getting flustered, "I don't know, I don't think so. But... wait, are you making me an offer?"

Beca sighed, "I have some blind spots in Finance and Strategy. I brought in Stacie to help build it up. Jared is leaving at the end of the year, and Jesse is still too green. Every project you've done with us has been amazing... and Stacie thinks you walk on water... and that almost never happens."

She thinks I walk on water?!

Beca kept talking, but my mind was replaying that sentence fragment again and again.

"...so think about it, okay?" Beca finished.

"You've caught me off-guard," I admitted, "I honestly don't know if this is for me - I like the diversity of working in different contexts with different teams, I always have. I'm flattered, of course, and I love working with Stacie too, but..."

Beca looked at me for a moment, like, really looked at me. I felt my neck flush, followed by my face.

"Oh, be careful there, Aubrey." She shook her head.

"Huh?" Oh my god, she saw through me.

"Stacie." She said simply.

I narrowed my eyes, "I shouldn't like working with her? Why? Is she an asshole or something?"

Beca was quiet again, "No. I think the world of her. She's just, um, difficult outside of the work context."

"Oh," I waved a hand casually, "She already told me that she doesn't do relationships... After I told her about an ex-boyfriend who moved to Utah."

Beca looked relieved, "Oh!" She laughed self-consciously, "Wow. Okay. I totally caught this major flirty vibe in her office just now. Okay, I read it all wrong. Wait, she just came out and told you she didn't do relationships?"

Oh shit, our chemistry was THAT obvious? I was equal parts titillated and mortified.

I nodded, "Yeah, she talked about not wanting complicated entanglements."

Now Beca looked totally surprised, "Stacie... Stacie gave you her take on relationships? Really?"

"Why's that so hard to believe?"

Beca leaned back and shook her head, "Because she never talks about personal stuff. Ever. But she did with you. It goes against... well, everything. It's totally out of character."

How interesting...

"I was talking about a break-up, she replied by telling me she doesn't like relationships. It didn't seem strange... just kind of, you know, sad that she doesn't buy into romance or love..."

Beca smiled; her eyes were sad, "There's some history there... and she's stubborn as hell. There's a group of us who try and play matchmaker for her. She's a good sport about it, but I've never known her to get into a serious relationship with anyone. And she's always kept her personal life personal... but apparently not with you. Which is good, I suppose."

"Hm," I said as neutrally as I could.

"Did she tell you anything else about herself?"

I shook my head, "No... but... do you know why she left Broad Peak Ventures?"

Beca leaned forward in her chair, "You've been reading up on Stacie?"

"It's the digital age, Beca, everyone does a little web-stalking before meeting someone new."

Beca gave a wry smile, "So... on BPV - I'll leave Stacie to give you the full back story, since she seems to be spilling the beans these days - but it was a combination of a personal decision she had to make, and me asking for her help here."

"Have you known her long?"

Beca nodded, "She's a good friend. She'd move mountains to help me if I needed her to..."

"So it's not like she doesn't know how to have relationships," I mused.

Beca did a double take and pointed at me, "I KNEW IT! You guys were flirting in there!"

I shook my head emphatically from side to side, "Beca, I have no idea what was going on in there. I don't have a clue when it comes to flirting with women. Or women flirting with me. Seriously. I just like spending time with her. I'm... drawn to her. We click. And I like that."

Beca sighed, "I'll say it again. Be. Careful."

"A straight girl and a gay girl can't be friends?" It was weak, but it wasn't entirely a lie. After all, this whole thing is still just a story I made up in my head.

"Of course they can," Beca said, "But the vibe I got just now between you two was not a friend vibe."

"Are you saying Stacie's interested in me?" Hey, might as well just put it all out there.

Beca tilted her head contemplatively, "That would be a benign way of putting it. The truth is, if she was flirting with you - and I think she was - it means she sees you as a challenge. A conquest."

Oh, that sounds soooo incredibly carnal and delicious.

"And once she gets what she wants, she'll move on." Beca's tone was flat. She rubbed her eyes, "That's why I'm telling you to be careful. Go have fun. But don't expect anything more. Trust me."

"I do. Thanks, Becs." I started picking up my stuff from the floor.

"...and think about my offer... although in light of whatever is going on between you and Stacie, you might find it easier to not be anchored here."

That was big of her. I nodded, "I'll think about it... All of it. Have fun in DC this weekend!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Low Heat (Ten Weeks Later)**

I decided to respectfully decline Beca's offer. She understood and, amazingly, told me I could change my mind at any point.

Stacie and I got closer. Nothing explicit has happened, but we were closer; more familiar with each other, physically and emotionally. She'd nudge me with her shoulder if I teased her about something as we walked to a meeting; I would swat her arm playfully if she made an off-color remark. We each picked lint (imaginary and otherwise) off the other's shirt or jacket. We were both casual about these encounters, but those micro-moments of attention were thrilling to me. But I never pushed. I was feeling the thrill of our gentle flirtation as much as I imagined Stacie was.

The limited time I had left at Mit-B magnified everything that much more. Two weeks from my end date, Beca sent me to the London office to meet with the team there on the new fee sharing model.

The team in London was small, headed up by Peter Brown (the other co-founder) with about two dozen people spread across functions. One of them actually went to college with Chloe - so it was nice to see a friendly face. It was the UK team that first pushed for a revamp of the model, and it wasn't hard to get them on board with the proposal that Stacie and I put together. They had some great comments and were such great hosts it made the week pass quickly, which was good because I missed Stacie so much it hurt. She must have missed me too; she'd send emails or texts with observations and funny one-liners about things that were happening in New York... I would respond, and we would have these marathon text exchanges that often made my face hurt because I was smiling so much.

The morning after my flight back was a vortex of stress, jetlag, and nervous energy. Chloe found me panicking in the bathroom again, this time because I realized that I'd run out of disposable contact lenses.

"Here," she handed me my glasses, "Go for the sexy librarian look."

I put them on and looked at myself in the mirror, "Definitely not sexy."

"Wear your hair down."

I complied. It was a little better, I thought.

Chloe pursed her lips and slowly nodded, "It works. Michelle Pfeiffer-ish... in 'One Fine Day'."

"What?"

"It's a mid-nineties movie about a mid-nineties romance in mid-nineties NYC. But you've always had a Michelle Pfeiffer kind of vibe... but with more boobage."

She'd lost me - I considered Hollywood sirens to be a breed of their own - but if she said I was making it work, I wasn't going to doubt her. Poor Chloe. She was like the begrudging coach of a novice ultra-marathon runner. Just encouraging enough to be supportive, but I knew 'you are out of your freaking mind' was ready to leap off her tongue at the slightest opportunity. To her credit, she willingly absorbed my volatile psychic energy and kept me from going insane. After all, nothing has happened. I've just extended the torture of the elaborate fantasy I'd woven in my head.

She wished me good luck and I found myself sitting in my cube thirty minutes later, wondering how and when I would lay eyes on Stacie. I couldn't really see the office entrance from my desk, so I just stared stupidly at my computer and willed myself to not act like a lost puppy wandering the halls of Mit-B.

By 9:30, I couldn't sit still any longer, so I got up and headed to the pantry to get myself a cup of coffee.

I rounded the corner and there she was. Seeing her made the world come back into focus again.

"Hey! Welcome back!" Stacie walked towards me.

"Thanks! I need an Stacie hug," I didn't know why I said that. We'd never hugged before. But she opened her arms and I burrowed right in. It felt more perfect than I'd ever imagined.

"What's with the glasses?"

Ugh, the glasses. Of course. I turned away and went into the pantry, "Ran out of contacts," I muttered. I started to fill a paper cup with coffee.

"Milk?" Stacie opened the fridge.

"Uh-huh," I nodded. And that's when it happened. Stacie handed me the carton of milk and I reached for it. Our fingers overlapped. Zing! We both just let the connection hold. It was an extra half a second, but it felt like I was holding her hand in a sun-dappled meadow.

"Thanks," I poured the milk in, and she offered to put the carton back in the fridge. Again, our fingers met - zing! - and again, wordlessly, we luxuriated in the touch.

Stacie closed the fridge door and leaned against it, "I like you in glasses. Why don't you wear them more often?"

I put down my coffee and shot her a look of disbelief, "Because I look like a dork."

Beca walked in at that moment, "Good morning, people..." She started pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"You don't look like a dork, you couldn't possibly look like one," Stacie said, as if Beca wasn't even there. I could feel Beca trying to get caught up as she looked between me and Stacie.

I attempted at a derisive snort, "Yeah, right." I turned and walked out of the pantry.

"Bree."

I looked back at Stacie, who was holding my coffee. Shit. I forgot the effing coffee. "Oh, right. Thanks, Stacie." Once more, our fingers found their way to each other. Maybe we should just spend the rest of the day handing things to one another.

Beca was now looking at me with a bemused smile.

"So!" she said brightly, "How was the London trip?"

"Went well," I said, "No surprises, everyone bought into the new model. I think the only question they had was about reporting, but that won't be built out in the accounting software until the end of the week."

Beca bumped her coffee cup against mine, "Nice job! We're going to miss you around here!"

"Not leaving yet... and you guys still have to do the management committee meeting, but thank you! I'm glad we got to a good result."

Beca smiled, "Me too. Let's schedule some time to do some prep before the Committee meeting." She gave me a wink and nodded at Stacie before walking back to her office.

"When's your last day?" Stacie fell in step with me as I headed to my desk.

"Next Wednesday."

"I don't want you to go."

Whoa.

I tried to respond as lightly as possible, so I took a sip of my coffee, "I'm going to miss you too, Stace. And it doesn't have to be good-bye."

"Really?" Stacie smiled.

I nodded, "Sure. You can find some other seemingly intractable issue for me to solve and I can charge you lots and lots of money for solving it."

Stacie made to say something, but she closed her mouth again.

"What?"

Stacie shook her head, "I was going to make a stupid comment. Ignore me."

I couldn't if I tried...

I shrugged, "Fair enough."

We stood and looked at each other for a moment. I think we could have kissed. But we didn't. I knew I held back because I didn't want it to happen at work. Maybe she felt the same... maybe not. But she had this unmistakably hungry look as she gazed at me and I went all wobbly inside. For me, it wasn't whether we were going to kiss anymore; it was just a matter of time.

Every subsequent day escalated the degree of intimacy just a little more. She'd look at me and I'd bask in the attention of her eyes as I felt them move down to my lips, over my neck, and over the profile of my breasts. My eyes were no less greedy; they traced over every facet of her face, her shoulders, the gentle ridges of the muscles in her forearms when her sleeves were rolled up, and her fingers, strong and straight. I loved her habit of re-tucking her shirt into her pants, because I could feast on how - as she shoved the back bits in - her shirt would stretch across her nipples. I'd never obsessed over anyone's torso before, but I wanted to see Stacie's. Hell, I wanted to see, touch, and get my mouth on all of Stacie.

More often than not these days, I'd wake up in the middle of the night with my hands and fingers struggling to approximate the satisfaction that I was craving from her touch. I didn't need reference material on how to have sex with a woman... my dreams were an unending movie reel of me and Stacie having sex everywhere.

The electric energy I felt between us pulsed with increasing insistence. I felt like we found our own little wrinkle in the larger cosmic-psychic-ethereal realm where we co-existed in total synchronicity. I was in love with her, and I sensed she felt the same, but I didn't dare ask; I couldn't bear the very high likelihood of her telling me that my feelings would not be reciprocated.

So we tumbled along, our magnetic affinity for each other drove us to find ways to spend time together. Thankfully, our work provided us ample opportunity to do so: we had an endless list of to-dos as we prepped for the final phase of the project - it was as much her project as mine now; we'd worked so seamlessly together on it.

The night before the Management Committee meeting, Stacie and I were in her office, going over the model's distribution of outcomes in what felt like the millionth Monte Carlo simulation we'd run. Beca had some eleventh-hour questions and changes which meant another go at everything we'd set up. I wasn't complaining, and neither was Stacie. We ordered sushi for dinner, during which she playfully admonished me for my lack of chopstick skills. Now, the remnants of the dinner were set to one side and we were eyeballing a before-and-after of our sensitivities analyses, both of us muttering numbers under our breath as we shifted from one table of outputs to another.

"Maybe a hundred basis points. Not really significant." Stacie frowned.

"It is if you're thinking about compensation - especially for the bigger earners around here."

Stacie exhaled loudly, "Why are you saying that? Now we have to do more work!"

"I'm a sucker for punishment. Come on Stacie, you'd feel like they caught you with your pants down if you went into the meeting tomorrow with a one percent gap. Let's just finish this up." I went over to her seat and sat down in front of her computer.

Stacie leaned over my shoulder as I reset the model and parameters for the simulation.

I waved her off, "Stop breathing over my shoulder, I hate it when you backseat drive."

Stacie chuckled, "What you're saying is, you're a control freak."

"That too. Now shut up and let me focus on this."

I'd fiddled with this model so many times I knew the prioritization of assumption variables off by heart. Now, I checked them off one by one in my head.

"Oh shit, Stacie, we locked in inflation and never unlocked it. That must be why."

"When did we do that?" Stacie had moved back over to the coffee table, where our mess of a dinner was sitting.

"Remember when Beca had a minor freak out about the thing this morning? We locked inflation for the worst case scenario."

"Oh my god. We're such idiots. Yep, that must be it."

As the simulation got cranking, I leaned back and watched the distribution chart change as the outputs were tabulated.

"Why did you say 'no' to Beca's offer to work here?" Stacie suddenly asked. She started cleaning up our dinner.

I was wondering when this would come up.

I sighed, "It's just not the right thing right now."

"When will it be the right thing?" Stacie picked up her nameplate from the pile of dinner debris and wiped it off with a napkin before handing it to me.

I pretended not to hear the question, "I can't believe you used that to cut the cookie." We'd decided to split an oatmeal raisin cookie as dessert, but we didn't have a knife (because we ordered sushi and the chopsticks weren't any help). Neither one of us wanted to go to the pantry so she used her nameplate instead.

"We got two pristine halves," Stacie stared at her nameplate in my hands. "Trust me, doing it by hand would have been messy - those cookies are deceptively gooey and hard to tear up."

"Instead, you decided to use your nameplate, which has been collecting dust for two months."

"Better than using the ruler... no-one's touched that nameplate."

"I have," I said, "I was the one that put it up there the day you started."

"Really?"

"Yup. Jessica was chasing down IT for you, so she had me do it."

"Well, thank you very much... belatedly!"

I watched my finger trace the letters in her name. "What's your middle name?"

"Oh, uh, Walsh. It's Walsh."

"Stacie Walsh Conrad..." I let that echo in my head for a bit, "Walsh is an interesting middle name."

"Walsh is my mother's last name," Stacie explained.

"Oh, I get it. That's nice it's part of your name. Walsh - that's an Irish last name, right?"

"Right. But her family's been in the US for generations. She... uh... died when I was young..." her voice trailed off.

I sat up, "Stacie, I'm so sorry."

She waved her hand, "No, no, it's okay. I added her last name as my middle name so it could be together with my dad's last name. They never got married because her family didn't approve of their relationship. They flipped out when she got pregnant with me. She was much younger than my dad. After I was born, her parents visited... and I don't really know what happened, but she left. Then she passed away. Dad doesn't like to talk about it."

"Your mom's family didn't approve of the age gap?"

Stacie shrugged then sighed. "Fuck 'em."

"How old were you?"

Stacie scrunched up her face, "Uh, six months? Maybe? I don't remember her at all. Her family keeps sending us Christmas cards with these vague offers of getting together. A day late and a penny short, as they say..."

The tragedy of the statement rocked me to the core. The casual manner with which Stacie delivered the information broke my heart.

"Is this why you said that 'love doesn't conquer all'?"

"Eh, maybe... I don't know..."

All I wanted to do at that moment was to hold her to me and convince her otherwise, but I remained seated. My eye caught a photograph she had on her desk. I'd never sat in her seat before, so I'd always just seen the back of the frame.

"Is this your dad?" I pointed at the photo.

Stacie smiled, "Yup. That's him and me after we sold our little pharma company back in the day."

"That must have been cool!"

Stacie nodded, an infectious grin spread on her face, "It was all dad's work. I was helping with the books while I was in b-school. The whole thing kind of took off: we were eventually bought out by Kovar. It's now part of one of the biggest bio-techs in the country. Dad retired and went into pharma-consulting."

"A consultant! He's a man after my own heart!" I quipped.

Stacie arched an eyebrow, "He's too old for you... and he doesn't date."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree..."

Stacie grimaced.

I instantly regretted the snarky comment. "Stace, I didn't mean to be flip. I-"

Stacie held up her hand, "No, it's okay, I can see the irony. You know, the funny thing is, to this day, my father refuses to say a bad thing about mom leaving. He won't talk about what happened, but he insists it wasn't her fault."

"He loves her. She loved him. They must have had some understanding - no matter how fraught it was - before she left. I think it's quite noble."

Stacie gave a short bark of a laugh, "Trust you to see the romance in this. I think of it as a cautionary tale."

"Stacie, it's just risk and reward. You won't ever get a return without taking some risk. Same with love."

"Didn't work for my parents though, did it?"

"Look, I don't know what happened, but it's clear they had love. As in the real deal. They had you! And you obviously buy into it because you honor their love every day with your names. I seriously don't believe your 'I'm bad at relationships' schtick."

"My track record sucks," Stacie looked at me earnestly, "I haven't had a relationship last longer than a couple of months."

"Why not?"

Stacie lifted her hands, "I dunno... I lost interest... They lost interest..."

"What holds your interest?"

"What are you, my shrink?"

No... Just someone deeply invested in your answer...

I shook my head, "Hmmm... definitely not... I'm a colleague... A friend..."

Stacie's eyes widened briefly as I said that.

"Okay 'friend', what holds my interest is how a person thinks... because it means conversations never get old. I'm interested in strength... strength of character, of purpose... I'm interested in someone who's interested in me... beyond the career, or savings account, or investment portfolio..."

Check. Check. Check. I think she'd say I was three for three...

"Those all sound reasonable, so..." I noticed the model was done running. I hit 'print'.

I picked up the printout and walked around the desk, "So... maybe you just haven't met the right person..."

"I've been thinking that too, actually..." Stacie blushed when she saw my look of shock.

WHAT?

I backed up a couple of steps in mock horror, "Is Stacie 'I think romance is stupid' Conrad contemplating love?"

"It's complicated... um, it's... forget it," Stacie pointed at the printout, "Let me see that."

"Wait, wait, wait," I said as I held the piece of paper away from her, "You've met someone?"

"Yes... I mean, no..." Stacie looked adorably shy, "It doesn't matter, it has, like, a one in a million chance of happening."

We stared at each other. I was so distracted by what she just said that I let her take the sheet of paper from my hand. I was suddenly wracked with doubt. What if I'm not the person she's talking about?

"Nine bips." I blurted out. Yeah. Good job, Aubrey. Way to change the subject and stomp on a moment.

Stacie blinked, "What?"

"Fixing the inflation thingy. We got the gap down to nine basis points."

"Oh," Stacie's eyes scanned the table, "Yep, that did the trick."

It was back to business. Stacie and I talked through a couple other sensitivities. I tried not to kick myself repeatedly for completely whiffing on the window of opportunity Stacie gave me.

"I think you are ready!" There was nothing else I could say, it was time to wrap up.

Stacie smiled, "I think I am."

"You'll knock it out of the park tomorrow. I know you will."

"Thanks." Stacie sat down in front of the computer, "I'll update that one slide and send it to the printers."

"You sure? I can do it if you want." I was scrambling for ways to extend our time together, but she didn't bite.

Stacie gave me a quick salute, "No need. I wish you could come to the meeting with me."

"You're the Finance Director - this is all you. I just got things set up. And most folks get turned off by consultants..."

"I don't." Stacie looked at me. It happened again: it felt like her eyes made my clothes fall off.

I stared at her, not sure what to say next.

Stacie looked down and started shuffling papers on her desk, "Uh, anyway. Uh, can I take you out to dinner tomorrow? As a thank you?"

I shook my head. Her face fell. I rushed to explain, "Can't. Remember Beca is hosting good-bye drinks for me before my last day?"

"Right," Stacie hung her head, "I forgot. Well, I can thank you at the thing. Buy you a beer or something."

"Deal," I grinned, "See you tomorrow first thing?"

"You got it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Medium Heat (The Next Evening)**

If anything, Stacie telling me about her family gave me a better understanding of what was going on in her head and basically made me fall for her even more. Chloe kept trying to temper expectations; and it wasn't entirely wrong of her... the way I gushed about Stacie was off-the-charts cheesy. But the heart wants what the heart wants, right?

"Remember," she said for the hundredth time, "there might be a huge gap between the fantasy Stacie and the real Stacie... and if you are going to make a move tonight, just remember that. It's not guaranteed to be rainbows and unicorns or mind-blowing sex."

"Why are you saying all of this? Have a little faith in our chemistry. And go finish putting your clothes on, we need to leave in, like, a nanosecond."

"I'm saying all this because you have no idea what you're walking into! Stacie is like the paragon of perfection right now and you know that can't be true... and then if you get hot and heavy at some point it's going to be obvious that it's not like straight sex... and you are - well, let's be honest - a total novice."

"Sex is sex, and granted, I may have to re-orient things somewhat, but..." I squeezed my eyes shut, "Jesus, I'm not going to just jump on her, you know, I'm going to at least see if this was just a fun office flirtation. She might have moved on already."

"Part of me kind of wants you to jump on her and be done with it. It was more fun when we checked out cute boys together," Chloe flashed me her cheeky smile.

I hugged her, "Thank you for keeping me sane. Now that Stacie and I aren't working together, it's going to be a little harder for me to rein this all in. Ironically, trying to stay out of the office rumor mill helped me not do anything rash. Are you ready?"

Chloe put her shoes on, "Wing-woman extraordinaire reporting for duty! Ready as ever."

"You just want to hang out with Beca." I wiggled my eyebrows. Chloe met Beca the last time I consulted at Mit-B when she came to meet me for lunch one day.

Chloe's cheeks went slightly pink, "That's not true!"

"Just behave yourself. Both when you meet Stacie, and when you get within touching distance of Beca."

Chloe looped her arm through mine and we headed out. The party was at a bar in TriBeCa, and Beca had booked us the private room downstairs. Beca gave me a huge hug when we arrived, and I thanked her profusely for hosting the event. She congratulated me on a job well done - the Management Committee meeting went well and the proposal was approved. I loved it when I manage to help a client figure out a difficult problem. Mit-B was the only one that threw me a farewell party though! There were maybe thirty-some people there, from a mix of departments at the firm. I felt so flattered that they all turned up for me; it definitely upped the guilt factor of me saying no to Beca's job offer.

Stacie was nowhere to be seen, and I suddenly panicked with the thought of not seeing her at all. Thankfully, introducing Chloe to everyone there kept my mind off Stacie, and I soon found myself in a rousing conversation with Jessica and Jesse about the merits of taking the B or D subway to work from Brooklyn versus the N or Q. I used to live in Brooklyn, so I had some skin in the game, but before I could really cast the deciding vote, Chloe nudged me. It was close to eleven at this point, and I'd pretty much assumed Stacie would be a no-show. But when I looked up, my eyes homed in on a figure by the door.

It was like a scene from a high school play, where you would hear two pops and a single beam of light would stream down on the star of the show. Stacie was bathed in the proverbial spotlight of my gaze. She must have gone home and changed, because she was now in jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt and holy hell my eyeballs exploded. Even Chloe muttered, "Fuckin' A!"

"I know," I said quietly.

"Look at those guns," Chloe's eyes were wide, "You didn't tell me she was ripped."

I shook my head, "I've never seen her arms before. I've never seen her out of a suit before." Well, except when she's completely naked in my dreams. It made me realize how little I knew about Stacie's life out of the office. I mean, she's talked about her friends and other non-work related stuff, but I didn't know that she worked out! If that's what her arms looked like, what did the rest of her look like?

Stacie came straight towards us, "Hey!" She looked at me and Chloe and gave me a big hug, "Sorry I'm late."

Home.

"This is my best friend Chloe," I introduced the two when I reluctantly broke from her embrace, "Chloe, this is Stacie, Director of Finance at Mit-B."

"Nice to meet you," Chloe said politely as they shook hands.

"How was your last day?" Stacie turned to me. I hated Chloe hovering and watching us interact.

"Don't know yet. Tomorrow's my last day, remember?"

Stacie smiled, "How is it that I didn't know that? I thought I was going to have to say good-bye tonight!"

"You weren't paying attention when I told you, clearly." I smirked.

Stacie crossed her arms (I tried not to swoon), "Not true, I pay very close attention to you... um... to you when you're talking."

The sight of Stacie's bare arms was causing some disruption to my brain neuron activity, and I kind of froze.

Chloe cleared her throat, "It's okay Stacie. I've lived with her for years and I can attest to the fact that she can do with some elocution improvement... she tends to mumble through her sentences."

"I. Do. Not." I said slowly.

"You kind of do," Stacie agreed, her eyes boring into mine, "It's endearing."

Zap. Stacie just zapped away my ability to speak.

"How do you guys know each other?" Stacie looked between me and Chloe.

"We grew up together," Chloe said simply, "I'm your best source for Aubrey Posen stories!"

"I'm all ears," Stacie said with good humor.

I slapped both of them on their shoulders, "No ganging up on me!"

"I can tell Stacie about Keith!" Chloe suggested.

What the fuck? I shot Chloe a warning look. She gave me her 'trust me, I know what I'm doing' look.

"Who's Keith?" Stacie asked.

Chloe smiled slyly, "Oh, just this guy that Aubrey came home one day talking about."

"Chloe," I said firmly, my eyes begging her to stop, "That is not something we need to be talking about right now!"

"Why not?" Stacie asked, "What's wrong with Keith?"

Chloe wiggled her eyebrows at me. I shot daggers at her.

"Oh, nothing's wrong with Keith..." she said dramatically, "It was just another string of 'oh Keith this,' and 'oh Keith that'... She gets a little moony when she crushes out on someone."

I watched a number of emotions cross Stacie's face. I squeezed her arm, hard, "Chloe, can you cut it out? I don't want to talk about Keith anymore."

Chloe seemed to finally get the message, "Ok, fine. How about something to drink? Stacie? Aubrey?"

"I'll come with you," Stacie said, "I need to go say a quick hi to Beca." Stacie gave me a little half smile. "I'll be right back."

Chloe circled back moments later with two beers, and she looked like she was about to burst. I glared at her, "What the fuck was that bullshit about Keith?"

She tapped her beer against mine, "I wanted to gauge her reaction to the possibility of you not being interested in her. I wanted to see how she would take it."

"You were skirting on outright LYING, Chloe!"

Chloe looked contrite, "I didn't say anything that wasn't true. I just didn't put it into chronological context. And by the way, she's so into you it's not funny."

"What? Really? What did she say?"

"Nothing specific. But she said I was lucky to have a friend like you. I said you were really special to me. And she said 'Bree's special to me, too.'"

My mouth hung open. Oh...

"She calls you Bree."

I scrunched up my face, "Yeah, so?"

"I'm the only one who calls you that," Chloe said, "Anyway so it threw me off a bit and I just stared at her for a second... and I think she must have thought I was wondering about what she said and not the name thing because she said, 'I've never met anyone like her before, I never thought I would.'"

I stared at Chloe.

Chloe nodded rapidly, "Yup. She also said, 'Keith's a lucky guy.' She's into you. Totally."

I shot her a look, "What did you say back?"

"Nothing. Beca called her over and I went to the bar."

I looked around the room and saw Stacie chatting with Beca. Stacie was nodding as Beca was talking, so I just ran my eyes up and down her body. Jeans were basically invented for Stacie's legs, I concluded. Without the usual dress shirt and suit jacket, I now had an unobstructed view of the nape of her neck, her shoulders, and yes, those arms... and her butt-

"POSEN!" Chloe snapped her fingers in front of me.

I looked at her, "What?"

"Oh my god," Chloe's eyes ran all over my face, "You'd sleep with her tonight if she made a move, wouldn't you?"

I laughed, "Chloe, I've been ready to throw myself at her since moment one. How have you not noticed?"

Chloe leaned her body into mine, "Don't let her break your heart, Bree."

"I'm not sure I really care... but I hear you. Thanks, Chlo."

Chloe suddenly shifted off me, "Beca just extricated herself from Stacie... She's headed to the bar," she hissed.

I chuckled, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Don't wait up!" Chloe gave me a hug and made a bee line for the bar.

I watched Chloe give Beca a quick tap on the shoulder before the two of them started talking like old friends. Why is it so easy for Chloe to chat someone up? I looked around for Stacie but couldn't find her. People were starting to leave. I let out a deep breath and picked at the label on my beer bottle. I felt stupid sitting there on my own, but I couldn't make myself leave.

"This isn't right... the guest of honor sitting all by herself..." Stacie slid into a chair at the table.

I waved a hand, "No biggie. It's getting late, and Chloe is no doubt off on an adventure with Beca."

"That didn't take long..."

I smiled, "Chloe's definitely not shy. I was thinking of leaving, actually."

"Want some company?"

My stomach did a flip.

I nodded, "I'd love some."

We made our way upstairs. Stacie held the door for me and we stepped out into the pleasant summer night.

"Where's home?" Stacie pointed her fingers left and right.

"West Village," I nodded towards the West Side Highway, "How about a walk up along the piers? Where do you live?"

"Chelsea, so not far from you," Stacie ran her hand through her hair, and a shiver went through me as I watched her bicep flex a little.

We started chatting, like we always did. Except every third step or so (yes, I was counting), Stacie's hand would brush against mine as we walked. It was getting excruciatingly hard to focus on keeping my end of the conversation coherent.

"May I ask a question? It's kinda personal..." Stacie gave me a quick glance.

"Sure, I think we are officially in friend territory now. My contract with Mit-B expires in less than twelve hours."

"Right. Uh, so how serious is it with Keith?"

I laughed, "Oh, it's not serious at all. Like, strike it from the record. I met him at a dinner with some friends and came home and told Chloe about him. We didn't even exchange numbers. It was months ago."

Stacie stopped walking and looked at me, "So why was Chloe talking about him like you guys were dating?"

I shrugged, "Because she was being protective. She thought you were mackin' on me and she wanted to throw you off."

"Did you think I was hitting on you?"

I shrugged again, "I thought you were being you... unless you've been hitting on me since day one?"

Gauntlet thrown...

"So nothing's happening with Keith?"

I allowed the dodge, "Nope. I'm single and fancy-free."

Stacie nodded wordlessly.

"Why do you ask?" I asked as evenly as I could.

"Oh, you know, you haven't talked much about your personal life, except for Andy... and I basically made you listen to me go on and on about my family... I'm sorry if it was too much. It just kind of all came out..."

"Don't be sorry. Thank you for sharing all that with me. It means a lot."

"It means a lot to me, too."

We walked along in silence for a bit, our hands dancing back and forth in their own crazy magnetic field, and I finally just couldn't stand it anymore.

"Stacie?"

"Yes?"

Here goes nothing. "I really want to hold your hand right now," I didn't dare look at her.

We kept walking. My heart was beating like it was about to burst.

A couple agonizing moments later, I felt the tips of her fingers reach for mine. "Me too," she said.

I let out a breath I hadn't even known I was holding. And then her fingers were tangled up with mine and our palms met. All the noises of the city muted to a dull hum; it was as if all my senses re-allocated their energies to feeling Stacie's hand in mine.

Stacie's hand was exactly as I had imagined it, but better. Her hand was slightly bigger than mine, and her fingers embraced the back of my hand with surprising warmth and strength. I didn't remember what it was like to not hold hands with her.

All too soon, we made the turn to head east towards the West Village.

"Nice digs," she said as we stopped in front of my apartment building.

I tucked some hair behind my ear, "It's because of all those obnoxious consulting fees I charge..."

I should ask if she wants to come up... I should-

My heart stopped as I felt Stacie let go of my hand. I glanced down at my hand, now without its mate, and I didn't know whether to protest or cry.

But before my brain could figure that out, Stacie's lips were on mine. I could only react. My hands cupped her face and I kissed her back with a ferocity that totally betrayed the depths of my feelings for her. Fuck it, I want this, I don't care of you break my heart into a million pieces.

Stacie responded as aggressively, her arms were around me and possessing me as her lips claimed mine.

"Do you want to come upstairs?" I asked breathlessly when we separated. I could imagine Chloe's look of disapproval already, but I didn't care.

"Yes. So much," Stacie nodded as she nipped the side of my neck, "But..."

My stomach dropped. Oh shit, she's not going to go up with me.

"But," Stacie looked deep into my eyes, "I can't. I promised Beca something for tonight."

"This late?" I looked right back at her. Her face was open, her eyes were sincere.

"Yeah," she nodded before her face split into a big grin, "Bree, I'm so happy."

I reached up and kissed her, "Me too."

"I'll see you tomorrow," she brushed her thumb across my lips.

I nodded.

"Okay," Stacie smiled and kissed me again, "And then maybe dinner as well?"

As long as dinner is me. "I'd like that."

"Okay," she said again, "Good night Bree."


End file.
